Lament After the Landsmeet
by Wyldehart
Summary: Elissa tries to come to grips with regrets concerning her abrupt betrothal to Alistair after the Landsmeet. But Alistair, she realizes, is a far kinder soul than she ever dared to hope as he shows her the meaning of forgiveness.VERY Mild adult bits.


**Lament After The Landsmeet**

_Elissa has succeeded in swaying the court and the nobles to take Alistair on as their King and somehow, she stumbled head-first into court politics by unexpectedly announcing herself as his queen. Amazingly, they almost seemed eager to accept her royal bid. Little did they know that the statement, "Alistair will be King and I will rule by his side" had been the impetuous statement of a love-stricken woman terrified of losing the only man she has ever loved. It is the most selfish moment of her short life but though she tries to regret the action itself, she finds that the only regret she has is not letting him know ahead of time that she would do it. But how do you inform someone of something not even __**you**__ know you will do until the moment you've done it? They have yet to speak of it as she has avoided the impending confrontation for fear of hearing what he would say. But maybe Alistair is a forgiving man? After all, he did not seem angry with her hasty announcement, merely startled and then amused. When the excitement had died down, the official prince of Ferelden was ushered away by the court for various reasons and Elissa was left alone…_

She sat on her bed wearing a simple noble man's shirt, loose breeches and soft leather boots. Her head hung low and her shoulders were hunched forward as she leaned on her knees with her arms. Her flaming red hair was in her spade-shaped face and her full lips were red from being chewed. Her cheeks, if one could see them through her hair, were flushed with wet strands clinging to her skin. Her eyes were wet and bloodshot. She had the look of a woman who had been crying for a long time. She knew she looked horrible. As if to punctuate the fact, her shoulders would periodically shake and a soft sob could be heard. Her hands clenched and unclenched convulsively as she dreaded the inevitable conversation that would take place when he found her. And he **would** find her, if he was looking.

Sure enough, he soon located his lady and instead of the happy greeting he'd hoped for, he found a woman who looked like a shadow of her usual self. She looked up through the veil of her hair at a sound near the entrance to her dark bedroom, a whispered "hello" from the brightly-lit doorway. Not even the fire, ignored for some time now, did little to light the quiet room. Alistair stood silhouetted, a dark shape backlit by bright torch-fire. He leaned against the wooden frame, his arms crossed. "Elissa? My love?" Hearing those words brought forth the joy of a spring rain on her parched soul. She wanted nothing less than to rush into his arms and embrace him but she held back and said nothing. Tears sprang anew from her cried-out eyes.

"Elissa, are you all right? You missed supper. The nobles want to meet the woman who would 'rule by my side.'" It was an attempt at levity and he knew it had failed. She turned her head away, hiding her misery from his smiling eyes. He tried to grin as he approached her. But the moment he touched her and felt her flinch away, he knew she was not all right. "Maker, Elissa! You've been **crying**! Come; let me make this better somehow. Why are you so sad? Now is a time for rejoicing, isn't it?"

She shook her head and struggled half-heartedly against him as he pushed against the bed, forcing his arms around her and held her tightly against her weak struggles. He ignored her protests, knowing them for the uninspired things they were. She needed him now, more than at any other time in her life and he needed her too. He would not let her go. Not now. Not ever. His arms were tight and the silk shirt against her cheek was soft. She exhaled into it, praying she wouldn't have to speak. It smelled of herb and wood and musky male sweat. It smelled of him. She loved him unconditionally, with the very fabric of her being. With him holding her so tightly, affirming his own deep feelings in a way more real than any act of love-making or word of affection, she found she could no longer deny her feelings. She clung to him tightly now as she wept anew against his strong, powerful chest. "Sweet love, it's all right. Whatever is wrong, you can tell me. I love you, you know that?" These were unnecessary words and he knew it. They were simply platitudes intended to distract her from her pain.

She pulled away to search his open, honest gaze. She touched his cheek lightly, wondering at his loyalty, in awe of his beauty. His gold-brown eyes caught the remaining embers of the fire's dying light perfectly, reminding her of a pair of amber earrings she'd had once as a girl. "I was such a presumptive **fool**, Alistair! How could you still love me after what I did?"

He blinked at her. How could she think such a thing? As if he had a choice about loving her! "**Excuse me**? What do you mean by **that**? I'm actually delighted that you would want me for the king… For **your** king. And especially for **your **husband. What a better partner for me than **you**? After all, we already love each other and we have found we work very well together. I confess I was initially taken aback… After all, it's not every day you become king and get engaged in the course of a breath! Which reminds me... you must be starving. I plan to ensure you eat since you made a point of skipping supper. We missed you." He was smiling, those golden eyes dancing in the waning firelight.

She pressed her cheek into his shoulder. "I put myself into the position of becoming your queen without even thinking about what **you** wanted! And now you're stuck with a woman you may not want to be with for the rest of your life. It was **selfish**! So **stupidly** selfish. I didn't even think of you because… because I was afraid of losing you. **Wynne** was right. Love is entirely selfish, as am **I**."

She heard a deep rumble of laughter in his chest beneath her tear-streaked cheek. "Is that why you've been scarce today? Maker's breath, Elissa… You are speaking nonsense, you know. You are not selfish. You are the least selfish person I've come to know, in fact. The fact that I am alive and about to become a king is proof of that. Me! I guess I've really become the 'royal bastard', heh heh. You have never complained, never made demands of me or our companions. You did what you thought was right. I owe you… so much. You kept my family alive. Though you knew that letting Connor or Isolde or Arl Eamon die might have been easier, you took the harder paths by enlisting the mages for Connor and retrieving Andraste's Ashes for Arl Eamon. And you refused to allow even Isolde to sacrifice herself. They are alive because of you and I will never forget that. Never. Elissa… " He pushed her away to look into her face. His fingers touched her tears, caressed her skin and did their best to erase the sadness he found there. "Tell me: what do **you** want? Is **this** what you want?"

She blinked up at him, uncertain what to say as she searched for the meaning behind his words. His hands were warm and gentle on her face, his lips painfully close. There were tears in his eyes. "I… Yes. I **want **to be your wife. I **very** much want to be your wife, Alistair. The **rest** is unimportant." He smiled and kissed her flushed cheek lightly. Then his lips then grazed her nose and brushed against her lips in the barest of tender kisses.

"Hmm. Then I don't see why you're so worried. It saves me from having to ask, anyway. I was **planning** to propose, you know. I want you to know that I feel the same about you. I think I would enjoy being your husband. Though… I **do** have one concern. As queen, you will be expected to provide an heir for the throne; something that I am not sure is even possible. I've never heard of it, anyway. The few Gray Wardens I know of who have had children together had them before one or both had taken the Joining." He pulled her against him again, this time more tenderly, more gently, his hand caressing her back and shoulders lightly.

She nestled against him, drawing strength from him and courage from his embrace. "Mmm. If we don't have a child, it won't be for lack of trying! And I do plan to make **every** effort…"

He chuckled again and squeezed her tightly with his arms. "You're right. I guess it's good that we started way back when we did! So, you plan to make **every** effort, do you?" His voice had become a happily seductive purr. His fingers moved along shoulders, slipping beneath the collar of her shirt. He was being playful, invitingly frisky. Well, the bed was pretty big… and pretty empty.

She was happy now and distant grumbling could be felt in the pit of her stomach as she was reminded that she had not eaten since breakfast, before the Landsmeet even began. "Oh, yes. Especially since I **now** have a **very** pressing incentive." The thought of bearing this kind, gentle man's child was exhilarating. He gently pushed her away so that he could search her face again. He wiped away a few stray tears before playing with the laces of her shirt. He was unlacing them, revealing the swell of her bosom. He gazed at her thoughtfully, drinking in the beauty of what lay before him. He knew her body, loved it as completely as he loved her.

"If you don't mind the observation, I don't like what you're wearing. You should slip on something **much **more comfortable, I think…" His hands had un-tucked the blouse and now they were gently exploring her body underneath the soft fabric. She rather liked the shirt; it was one of his and it was remarkably comfortable. But she also liked where this was leading. She helpfully raised her arms, laying them across his shoulders in case he wanted to liberate her of the shirt. Elissa smiled against his neck, delighting in his touch, in his scent, in the way he slid his hands up her torso and teased the shirt up to her shoulders.

As the shirt was pulled over her head to be tossed to the floor carelessly, she leaned into his caresses, murmuring as she did, "And what do you propose I put on then, my betrothed?" There were no more tears. There were only smiles and teasing glances. He loved it. He had made her smile again and keeping the smile on her beautiful face would remain his life-long goal.

His breath was hot against her bare shoulder as he kissed and nibbled his way down. He chuckled breathlessly. "Oh… I was thinking you could wear **me**…"

They both laughed and moved deeper onto the big bed and Elissa made good on her promise to make "every effort" to bear his child. Though distracted, a part of her was still thoughtful. She decided then that maybe she had made the right choice during the Landsmeet. It wasn't as if she could do it over again, anyway. Not that she would want to. There was nothing about him that would make her change her heart. Now, whatever the future held for them was uncertain but Elissa Cousland, nay, Elissa Theirin in due time, would make it her goal to continue to do what was expected of her. As Alistair's wife, she would be supportive, a willing ear or voice of reason. As queen, she would be loyal to his efforts and further them with temperance, firm resolution and unflinching wisdom. As a Gray Warden, ultimately the Gray Warden Commander of Ferelden, she would continue her duties as necessary but never fail to return to her love's side as soon as she was through. But it would be as a mother, an as-yet unforeseen event, in which she would excel…

Finished.


End file.
